


Reassurance

by DecayingInRed



Category: Panic Room: House of Secrets
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Major Spoilers, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 08:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3242195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DecayingInRed/pseuds/DecayingInRed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trips to the study have never been so eventful. Feather shows John that not everything is as bad as it seems. Fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reassurance

**Author's Note:**

> As requested by anon. I hope you enjoy and feel free to send more.

John was standing by the bookshelves when she entered the study. Papers scattered across the floor, a bizarre black and white carpet of words. The thick musty smell of old books tickled her nose as she tried to avoid accidently slipping on a loose page. John opened a book and skimmed through its contents. When nothing caught his interest he closed it and tossed it to the side, repeating the process with another book and then another. Some were thrown over his shoulder, but a few had been given a small amount of respect and were placed gently on the desk beside him.

His hair was in total disarray, and matched the chaotic state of the study. Brushing his bangs back, he managed to tuck them behind his ears. It didn’t take three seconds before they slipped out and hid his eyes once more. He cursed under his breath and dropped the book, letting out a deep sigh. Giving another push to move his hair out of his face, his hands dropped to cover his eyes, rubbing them, and he leaned back.

Feather forced a cough and knocked on the top of the desk. His hands dropped and he looked at her expectantly without saying a word. “It’s my turn to do the shift,” Feather explained, standing awkwardly by the tower of books. Still he said nothing. “Jack’s trying to finish some soldering, he’ll be up here in a few minutes.” She didn’t want to put emphasis on the word “trying.” There was no need to make a mockery of the state of Jack’s eyes – not that she would. There were just some things that didn’t need any more to be said on it.

“You should’ve waited until he was ready,” he grumbled, picking up a thick book. “Or he should’ve left the soldering to Nat. Haven’t we already discussed the importance of staying in pairs in our last meeting?”

Feather bit her lip. “You know he won’t ask for help,” she replied softly. “He’s too proud and stubborn.” John let out an exasperated chuckle at that. “And besides, I’m not alone… I’m with you.”

The laughing stopped and he frowned. “Have you closed the door? Quickly, pass the test before-“

“Already done.” He blinked, completely taken aback. Was he really that absorbed in what he was doing that he didn’t even notice the door closing and the sound of the bell? “Do…you need a hand?” she offered.

He glanced at the book in his hand and at the shelves behind him. “Please.”

Feather began collecting the pages on the floor to avoid any possible accidents in the future. She almost jumped when her finger nearly hit against a trap hiding beneath a pile of torn pages from some encyclopaedia. Carefully removing them before dismantling it, she took a brief moment to look at what John was doing. He quickly averted his eyes from her and flicked through some old newspaper, his bangs hiding his face.

No matter how much time she had spent running around the house with him for the past few weeks, it was still strange to be standing in the same room as the man who captured and held her prisoner for over a year now. Had someone told her, when she arrived, that she would be working side-by-side with the maniac who started all this to find a way out she would have laughed in their faces. Yet lo and behold, here they were. Her heart fluttered with uncertainty whenever she looked at him. The first few months she spent her waking days plotting and fantasising of ways for making the bastard suffer. Her logical and good-natured side wanted send him straight to Scotland Yard. However that darkest part of her that dwelt in the deep recesses of her mind wanted to torture and kill him, to watch him bleed and cry out for mercy.

But that was just a fantasy, and at the end of the day, she really couldn’t see herself doing that. She always assumed that she would’ve done what Jack already did and punch his face. Matt and Alice on the other hand…

Yet throughout the entire year, those thoughts slowly dissolved into a distant memory. She became more engrossed in finding out what happened in this house, helping Leonard and the rest of the ghosts, fighting alongside and building relationships with the rest of her fellow captives. She had been to busy chasing after Matt with Ryan, listening to Isami’s parables, helping Jenny overcome her amnesia, working with Jack, Jim and Bill while avoiding Alice like the plague to even pay the Puppeteer a second thought. The goings on in this house had consumed so much of her time, and she could never really say if that was a good or a bad thing.

It was only when he gave out small hints, or whenever she found a new diary page that she remembered. The more she read his diaries and delved deeper into his past, the more her views changed on him. Her original wanton lust for vengeance had become warped over time as she began to pity him – even going so far as to admire him. It took some strength to survive all those years of hell. Even setting up all of this took some kind of strange demented strength in order for it to be pulled off the way it did. If that had been her she would’ve looked into the barrel of a gun early on.

It didn’t surprise her when she saw him collapsed by the entrance door with the needle of a syringe stuck in his arm, only that he hadn’t done it sooner. Perhaps what surprised her more was the fact that her stomach lurched and her throat tightened when she saw him in that state. If Jim hadn’t been there…

“Found anything?”

“Unless you consider the anatomy of Amazonian creatures to be _greatly_ beneficial to our escape plan, then the answer is no,” Feather replied sarcastically, landing the mountain of papers in her arms into a relatively empty corner.

“Splendid…” John rubbed his eyes once more.

“Haven’t slept much?” Feather began searching the bookshelf next to him as he sighed.

“Ryan doesn’t seem to believe in the concept of sleep,” he smiled half-heartedly.

As he was about grab another book, Feather’s hand held his wrist. “Here, I got it. Sit down there and take a breather.” His face flushed but he said nothing as he followed her orders and sat sullenly.

Silence gnawed at her like a dog tearing through a bone. She could feel John’s eyes resting on her as she went through each and every single book. Occasionally she would glance back and he would sheepishly look away, pretending to sort out a few books. Returning back to her work, her cheeks burned up as she tried to shake off this weird stirring in her chest and gut.

She couldn’t bear it any longer, the tension was too much. “You’re, uh, not exactly what I expected you know…” Her tone was smooth and level, trying to carefully articulate what she was going to say next.

“I imagine,” John smirked. “For curiosity’s sake, what _did_ you imagine?”

“Honestly? I thought you would be some old man. With a sty.”

“A sty?” The thought amused him.

“Yeah, with a beer belly, a big hooked nose and a dire attempt of a comb-over. That’s what I had pictured in my head but that amazing voice…”

A broad smile crept across John’s lips and his eyes twinkled in delight. Feather mentally slapped herself and cringed outwardly. _Don’t tell me I just said that out loud_ , she thought, practically screaming at herself.

“So you think I have an amazing voice now, do you?” he arched an eyebrow, still smiling. Feather hung her head in shame. _Great, now he’s gonna drag this out and I’ll never hear the end of it._

She tried miserably to cover it up. “Did I say that?” she laughed nervously, avoiding eye contact. “What I meant to say was-“

“It’s not the first time you commented on my voice.”

Her eyes widened. “What?!”

He lifted his eyes to the ceiling, pursed his lips and tapped both of his index fingers together in contemplation. “I do recall you talking to – who was it, again – Nat? Or was it Tan? I think it was Tan. I remember the two of you talking. You said, and I quote, that I was “an A-class asshole who needed to get rid of the stick stuck up his ass.” And if it wasn’t for the fact that I had, and once again I quote, a “sexy as fuck voice” you would’ve already damaged the cameras out of spite.” John smiled innocently at her, as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

Feather swallowed hard, a bead of sweat rolling off the back of her neck. “Oh god!” she cried. “Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god… You heard all of that?!”

“Of course I did. However if you still think I’m bluffing I can always ask Ryan…”

“No!” she pleaded. _Not Ryan! He heard it too?_ She completely forgot about Ryan. How could she? Whenever she went up to the attic he was nearly always sat up in front of the monitors with a set of headphones on. Come to think of it, there were several occasions where she returned to him after fetching something for him and he was in a grumpier mood than he was when she left him. And they were usually the days she groaned and called him a “dick.”

How could she forget about the cameras in general? For the first few weeks she had been so painfully aware of them. Always careful to say or do things in front of them. The longer she spent here the less she cared or even noticed them. _I’m such an idiot…_

Feather threw her arms up in the air and crossed them, looking down at the former Puppeteer sourly. “Don’t tell me; you already heard me say that I would do unspeakable things to you in bed because of that voice?”

He raised his eyebrows, straightening himself up. “ _That_ I did not hear you say.”

Her heart sank and, at that moment, she truly believed it was possible to die of mortification. Her opened and closed as she struggled to come out with something to try and defend herself with. Plus she was sure that she looked like she had swallowed an eel. Instead, she opted to cover her face with her hands. “So I _did_ say that in my head.”

He chuckled. “Yes. Emphasis on the word “did.” I do apologise for shattering any illusions you may have had.”

“Bastard,” she hissed. “You’re enjoying every bit of this aren’t you?”

His shoulders trembled with mirth. “I am,” he admitted.

Feather snorted. “And I bet you’ve also been perving on me.”

The laughing died down but he still had a small smile playing on his lips. “Of course not, I’m a gentleman.”

“Really? I don’t know many gentlemen who listen into other people’s conversations OR kidnap them and force them to pass tests against their will while maniacally inventing new conditions and whatnot.” The smile vanished and Feather felt a pang of guilt rush over her as she realised that she stepped too far. “I-I’m sorry, I-“

“I deserved it,” he sighed, eyes downcast.

Silence returned to the room once again. Not knowing what to do, she grabbed another chair and sat down beside him. Hesitating, she awkwardly placed a hand on his shoulder. He gasped and shuddered at her touch. Her hand recoiled. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. His face was expressionless but stiff as he stared at the ground. “For the record… I don’t think the Puppeteer was entirely a bad guy…”

He turned his head towards her, waiting for her to continue. “Well, for starters, he didn’t go around torturing people. Nor did he stop or restrict the food supply from coming in. He also risked getting caught by buying those surgical tools in order to save Jack. He gave us holidays… and in this house they were more important than ever. They brightened up the days for everyone and gave them hope. Even though some of them were silly and most of which we would never celebrate normally. And before you say anything, I know that it was mainly Jenny who organised everything but he let them happen and supplied a lot of the stuff.”

His face softened and she placed her hand on his shoulder again. “And do you wanna know the most important part?” she asked, giving him a slight squeeze. “He _wanted_ to see us succeed. He gave us advice. He gave us opportunities. He gave us freedom.”

“No,” John whispered. “I didn’t do that, you did.”

“Okay, but you gave us the incentive to do so. Nothing like locking us up to get our want of freedom going,” Feather joked but John didn’t see the funny side to it. She sighed. “I’m not saying that he was a saint, far from it, but he was better than the Trickster and Alice. Waaaaaaaaay better. However I’m glad that he’s gone, and do you wanna know why? Because John is ten times the man he was. You’ve owned up to everything you did wrong, and that’s not easy! Better still, you’re trying your goddamn best to put everything right again. You’re not the monster that you think you are. We’re all here to support each other and that includes you! I know it may not seem that way, but no one wants to see you get hurt.”

John’s eyes darted up to the camera and he gritted his teeth. “Are you entirely sure?” There was venom in his voice, making Feather shift uncomfortably.

“You know what I mean.” _I need to distract him_. “Besides,” Feather grinned. “We had our good times.”

He seemed to take the hint. “I suppose we have,” he smiled wistfully, his eyes distant.

Nudging his ribs she said, “Remember that baseball match?”

His face brightened up. “Yeah, how could I forget? Even more so to watch Jack pass the tests without saying a word – like we agreed on. And for three days, no less!”

“He was furious! But secretly he enjoyed it. Just don’t tell him I said that.”

“I won’t. Remember when you sang ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ in the living room with the Firewood brothers?”

Feather gasped, grinning from ear to ear. “Oh yeah, that was our “Queen Tribute Night”! Hard to imagine that Jim could do a fantastic Freddy Mercury impression.”

John let out a genuine laugh, Feather’s heart thumped against her ribs at the sound. “He surprised everyone,” he managed to say.

She let the laughing die down a bit before speaking once more. “John?” When he gazed at her, she felt herself stopping, unable to continue for a few brief seconds before forcing the words out. “Thank you.”

His eyebrows knitted together and he gave her a quizzical look. “For what?”

Now she felt ridiculous. “For bringing me here.” That only confused him more. “If you hadn’t brought me here I would’ve never met these people. Although, mind you, I could’ve lived without knowing Matt and Psycho Bitch. Despite losing worrisome amounts of blood and nearly getting killed on several occasions, I had a blast.”

“That’s… a first.”

He felt warm beneath her hand; he froze when she touched him at the start, right now his muscles relaxed. Bright blue orbs stared back at her intently, mesmerising her. She didn’t know what possessed her to do so, suddenly she found herself leaning in towards him and lightly pecked his cheek. Retracting from him, her face burned up. When she dared to look at him she saw that his face was like stone. “I-I…” she stammered, stomach twisting.

Soft lips pressed against hers, tenderly at first, then gradually becoming more and more demanding. She parted her lips and let his tongue slip in for a quick taste, caressing her. Slender arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her towards him. Her hands rested on his chest, slowly travelling up to touch his neck and face. The kiss broke and both were struggling for breath, foreheads touching. “What was that for?” she managed to say between breaths.

He smiled gently at her, cupping her cheek and rubbing a thumb over the soft flesh. “For being you.”

“When this is all finished and we’re out of here, we’re having a drink. All of us.”

He kissed her again. “I’d like that. But between you and me, I’d prefer it if we had some time for us as well.”

“Well…” she purred, nuzzling his cheek. “Since you won me over with your charming personality and amazing voice, I suppose we can arrange something.”

They remained like this for another few moments before John reluctantly pulled back. “We should probably stop.” He tilted his head up towards the camera.

“Yeah you’re right,” Feather sighed. She gave him a sly grin and a wink. “It’s not too bad though; it just gives us more reason to catch up again later.”

John let out a low chuckle. “I’ll take you up on that.”

The door opened with a loud creak as Jack stepped in. He was more confident in his walking since his sight got better but he still didn’t fully regain that usual swagger he had either. _Jack always did have a knack for perfect timing_ , Feather thought. “It’s okay, I already passed the test,” she called out.

He squinted for a few seconds before relaxing his face. “Nice one,” he smirked. “Hey John, you can go now, we got this.”

John gave him a stern look. “What have I told about never going around the house on your own?”

“I know I know,” Jack whined, folding his arms. “I promise I won’t do it again, Mom.”

“Be sure you do.” John stood up, trying his best to hide the amusement in his voice. “I’ll see you later.” He patted her shoulder.

“See ya.” Feather grabbed a few books and went back to going through them.

Once he left, Jack strode over and plopped down on the empty chair next to her. “Let’s see what we have here… Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Oh, a puzzle piece! There ya go.” He dropped it into her open palm. She slipped it into her back pocket. “Nothing. Nothing… I know my eyesight isn’t as great as it used to be…and maybe I’m just imagining things…but are you blushing?”

She punched his arm, not too hard but enough to take the hint. “Shut up and keep searching,” she pouted, hiding her cheeks.


End file.
